The Pauper Prince - Part 25

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 25

  Before Princess Anne returned home, she offered an open invitation to her peer to visit her home in the kingdom of Halliard "anytime." The Queen accepted immediately on Mara's behalf, and even set the time for her of a month's hence. The trip would be four days by carriage, and as always, with an armed escort. Mara hoped to impress upon the King and Queen that a less obvious way of traveling would reduce her chances of being attacked, but they were unmoved. No incognito travel and certainly without protection. No longer a commoner, indeed.
  And before the Queen had begun retraining her as a "gift" to the Prince, Mara received news that Ophelia's child had been born, so she decided to make good on her offer to visit. Heather knew Ophelia and was perhaps even more excited to see the newborn. Ophelia and her family lived above the coopers' workshop, where her husband plied his trade.
  They brought a soft, warm blanket and a basket of assorted foods: mostly bread, cheese and fruit. Ophelia's mother answered the door and was quite taken aback that the Princess had come calling, but recovered quickly and ushered them both in with some fanfare for the sake of the other occupants. Like many of the castle workers' abodes it was one room, but cleverly partitioned either by tall furniture, curtains or makeshift walls. There was enough furniture to accommodate multiple people and yet somehow did not seem crowded.
  Ophelia, her younger sister and a friend were sitting by the light to work on their latest sewing project. After a brief moment of shock, Ophelia and the other women hastily put aside their work and stood and dipped and fawned. Mara tried to calm everyone down, then gave up and let the excitement die out on its own. Her even younger brother, who appeared between 6 and 8 years of age, just stared at the "really tall lady" bringing gifts and saying hello to everyone.
  Then Ophelia proudly retrieved her newborn son from his cradle. Heather's face lit up at the sight of the child, and her smile was almost as big as her friend's. Mara was too busy being surprised by how very small a newborn is. She had seen babies before, of course, but from a distance and had never really lingered on them. Until now.
  "My little boy," said Ophelia quietly, smiling and nodding. "My little Nathaniel. After his father." She brought the infant closer and stood between them, but held him closer to Mara. "Do you see, Nathaniel? Our Princess has come here, just to see you!"
  "Oh..." said Mara, blushing. "Well... We came to see all of you, really, Heather and I. We just wanted to see how all of you are. See how you and- Nathaniel - are doing."
  Ophelia's mother sent her younger daughter downstairs to fetch Ophelia's husband. The girl protested mildly, preferring to hobnob with royalty, but was scolded into obedience. Mara inwardly cringed, but the scolding was not harsh enough for her to consider intervening.
  Meanwhile, Heather could stand it no longer and begged to hold the child, which the beaming new mother was glad to oblige. Clearly Heather had experience in handling babies, for she held him correctly straight away and as if she were born to it. She turned so that her Lady could see his face full-on.
  His eyes were closed, so Mara thought he might be asleep, but his face was still so active. His brow twitched, his nostrils flared, his cheeks scrunched, his lips tightened and quivered, and all sorts of movement occurred. In spite of not knowing what was proper behavior when viewing babies, she became lost in thought just watching him. Was he having vivid dreams? Would he remember any of them years later? Could infants form full thoughts, but just could not speak them yet? Did-?
  "He brings hope to our family," she heard the mother say. The others murmured in agreement.
  "Hope?" said Mara, tearing away from her thoughts.
  The mother nodded. "Little Nathaniel is the first born in our family since the dark days." The plague, Mara thought. Ophelia went to her mother and put an arm around her.
  "You lost loved ones," said Mara.
  The mother nodded again and took a deep breath. "My husband," she said. Ophelia leaned closer to her. "My eldest son."
  "Auntie," added Ophelia. Her mother tightened her mouth.
  "I've... I was told that everyone lost someone back then," said Mara. "I hope you'll accept my condolences."
  "Yes, of course," said the mother. "Thank you. And you bring hope to your family."
  "Mine?" she asked uncertainly.
  "With your child," said the mother. "Our Prince and Princess were also lost in the dark days. And now here you are, with His Highness, restoring hope to your family. And by extension, the whole kingdom."
  Mara felt her face warming into another blush. She fidgeted and cleared her throat. More people making her child more important than others. "Ahhhh," she said. "Every child brings hope to the kingdom. Nathaniel, as well."
  Ophelia smiled sadly. "That's very kind of you to say so, your Highness."
  "But it's true," said Mara.
  "My Lady," said Heather, "Do you wish to hold him? Oh, I am sorry, Ophelia. Would it bother you if Her Highness held him?"
  "Oh!" said Ophelia, clasping her hands together in delight. "That would be-! Here, allow me..." She went to Heather and took back her child, then held him out to Mara, who took a step back and almost held up her hands in protest, but resorted to more fidgeting instead.
  "Now, now, wait," said Mara. "I've never-- I don't want to hurt him."
  "Of course you won't, your Highness," said Ophelia, smiling and continuing to push him towards her.
  "It'll be good practice for you," said Heather with an impish grin.
  Mara "hmph"ed at her, then apprehensively took the child from Ophelia, and was more than willing to be shown how to hold him without dropping, crushing, twisting or suffocating him. Satisfied that her child was, more or less, safe in the Princess' arms, Ophelia took a step back and tried to stifle a delighted giggle.
  "Well done, my Lady," said Heather.
  "Surely this is not the first time you've held a babe?" said the mother.
  "Uh..." said Mara, glancing at him to make sure he was still alive. He was so light. "Yes?"
  As if Ophelia needed a reason to be even more proud. Just then the younger daughter returned with her brother-in-law, whose eyes went wide at the sight of a royal Princess cradling his newborn son. Ophelia rushed to him and dragged him over to make introductions. He was too flustered to remember about greeting etiquette, or coherent conversation, for that matter. Mara, wishing to cause no more fuss, congratulated them both and then all others present before handing the boy back to his mother and thanking them for allowing the visit.
  In the flurry of final farewells and offers of gratitude, Ophelia's young sister rushed forward to hug Mara. Before the Princess could reciprocate, the girl was pulled away by her mother, and another scolding ensued. The mother offered the explanation to their visitors that the girl hugs "everyone," and promised to break her of the habit, in spite of Mara's insistence that it was very endearing and that no correction was needed - especially not the violent kind.
  The young boy then announced loudly that he would never hug a girl, and folded his arms defiantly. Another unruly child to embarrass the family! Mara, amused, knelt down and beckoned him forward. After some hesitation and an urging from his irritated mother, he complied.
  "Far be it from me to predict if you'll ever hug a girl," she said, "But your mother is correct about your little nephew. You know that you're his uncle, yes?" The boy nodded. "He brings hope to your family, and to the kingdom. That means that you have a duty to help your family look after him. To help keep him safe, and strong, and healthy. Can you do that? Can you perform that duty?"
  The boy seemed to give it serious thought. Finally he nodded. "Yes, I can," he said.
  His mother corrected, "'Yes I can'... your Highness."
  Mara stood up and waved it off. "His duty is more important," she said, winking. Then a solemnity overcame her. "Duty is the most important thing for us all, isn't it?" She offered a smile, but the room was oddly quiet. She and Heather took advantage of this and left without further ado.

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  Mara thought it best to leave Heather behind while she traveled to the kingdom of Halliard. She assumed her friend would welcome the break from her duties, and more importantly, could find more time to spend with Leonard and to further their wedding plans. Unfortunately the King and Queen, especially the Queen, disagreed, and took the opportunity to remind the Princess that the servants should not be left to their own idle ways. That and the girl's parents were handling the wedding preparations. Mara was quite apologetic to her friend while explaining the situation. Heather insisted that all was well; Mara tried to determine if she was bothered by this, but could not.
  Because the ride would take four days and three nights, she assumed that they would make stops as needed at taverns along the way or, in lieu of any nearby towns or villages, set up camp. That's what she had had to do when traveling, after all. It never occurred to her that they would be staying at the large manor homes and castles of local lords and ladies. So that's how rich people traveled! She had seen such homes from a distance in the old days but never had dared to bang on the doors and ask for shelter. That sort didn't offer shelter to the rabble, or if any of them did, she never found out. But for royal travelers, the doors were open, and she was treated... well, like royalty. Still, Mara opted to stay in whatever accommodations were offered to her companions, as opposed to slumbering on feather mattresses while they made beds in, at worst, the stables with their horses or, at best, common sleeping rooms for servants. Since no self-respecting host of royalty would dare house such a guest in less than their best, this led to everyone sharing spacious guest rooms each night.
  Mara brought plenty of reading materials, and thought she might be able to practice writing, too, but the carriage was too rough to allow for it. Heather passed the time with embroidery and knitting. As long as Mara was buried in her reading, the two women did not talk, but when they did, Heather couldn't help imagining aloud how her wedding, and subsequent married life, would be. After a couple of hours of that, Mara offered her friend some books. None of them contained romantic poetry or adventure tales, though, so Heather politely declined and returned to speculating about the nature of her nuptials. Some days of their journey seemed much longer than others.

  At Castle Halliard, Mara was welcomed by Prince Rupert and Princess Anne like an old friend. She introduced Mara and her fellow travelers to King Phillip and Queen Genevieve, also known as Prince Rupert's parents. Halliard was also an ally of Gimsley, and had sent troops in aid, but the Prince was not leading them. He had suffered some sort of leg injury from years before that kept him out of battle. Halliard's troops would be led by the highest-ranking man on the battlefield, who could very well have been Kelvin.
  After securing accommodations for all, the travelers were treated to a fine meal and offered baths or whatever else they needed. It was just before the royals' meal that Anne's three young children appeared. This was something of a surprise to Mara, for the Princess had never mentioned children before, not even when discussing her own child-to-be. Two attendants brought them out for the royal family to greet and fawn over for a while, especially the infant, who appeared to be just shy of a year. Mara was brought over to be introduced.
  "My oldest," said Anne, bringing him forward, "Phillip Rupert. Heir to the throne after Rupert. And then Thomas Rupert, after my father Thomas. And we mustn't forget Baby Elizabeth Genevieve Anne. After my mother Elizabeth and of course our own Queen Genevieve."
  "They're all such lovely children," said Mara, smiling. "They'll be joining us, then?"
  "Oh, no," said Anne. "They've already eaten and now have either playtime or studying. Which is it, Nanny?"
  "My Lady," said the nanny with a nod, "Study for Phillip, play for Thomas."
  "Very good," said Anne. "Has Elizabeth been fed?" She let a finger rest on the baby's mouth. Little Elizabeth attempted to suckle it. "Where is the wet nurse?"
  "Nearby, your Highness," said the other attendant, who was holding the baby.
  "Do make sure she's fed soon," said Anne. As if understanding the words, Elizabeth began crying. "Oh, see? I was right! Go, go tend to her immediately!" She dismissed the women with waves of her hand as they dipped to all and herded the children from the room.
  After there was quiet again, Anne sighed and then returned to hostess duties, leading Mara to the seat beside her. Heather had already been ushered away to dine with the other servants. Normally Mara would have requested that she join them, but decided that others might enjoy hearing about her upcoming wedding day.
  Typical banquet seating, where nobody faced anyone and all were seated according to status. She never did understand its purpose. Once all were seated, Mara suddenly became interesting to the others.
  "Tell me," said the King as a servant tucked in a bib for him, "How is old Silas? And his lovely wife Lily, of course."
  "Oh, both are well, your Majesty," said Mara, and found herself fending off a servant trying to tuck in her own bib. She thanked him while taking it away and placing it where she wanted, which was not with his hands down her dress. "Ahh, they're hale and hearty."
  Prince Rupert leaned in to look past his parents and address their guest. "And please accept our congratulations on your coming child," he said. Mara blushed and instinctively laid a hand on her belly. "Your first, is it?"
  "Yes," she said. "The first for me, and for the family since... a while, I'm told."
  "Yes," said Anne. "Since they were lost."
  "Well, may you and your family be blessed with many more," he said.
  Mara looked down and rubbed the bump. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I hope so, too. We hope so."
  "And Kelvin?" he said. "Is he still at Gimsley? Have you heard from him?"
  "Ahhh," she said, looking down. "No. No, I have not." Anne smiled sadly and patted her hand. "I would love to send word to him," Mara continued. "In a letter, perhaps. But-"
  "We could send a messenger under a flag of truce," said the King.
  "Oh," she said, "I-I wouldn't want someone going all that way just for something of mine."
  "We're going to be sending supplies tomorrow," said Rupert. "You could-"
  "Tomorrow?" said the King. "I didn't order that."
  "We discussed it this morning, Father," said Rupert. "We agreed to it then."
  "Did we?"
  "Yes, Father," said Rupert, then was quiet a moment. "As I was saying, Mara, if you have any messages for your husband, give them to me and I'll send them along."
  "Oh, that's very kind of you," she said. "I have... much to tell him. I'll be sure to write something tonight, then."
  "How are the others?" asked the King. "The two Princes and Princess? Was it Robert that you married?"
  Mara stared, uncertain how to respond. She then traded looks with Rupert and Anne and cleared her throat. "Er... No, your Majesty," she said. "It's his brother Kelvin that I married. Kelvin. And... Robert and Flora are... very well these days. Thank you for asking."

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  "He's just... forgetful sometimes, is all," said Anne later in her parlor. She had pulled out her knitting and inquired after Mara's project, but her friend was yet to take up such a creative pursuit, to Anne's surprise. Mara kept a book beside her but did not read from it as long as they were speaking.
  "Well, I wouldn't expect him to know everything that happens in all kingdoms," said Mara.
  "You're correct," said Anne. "But then, he attended the funeral. He and the Queen. And your wedding to Kelvin, for that matter. But... he does seem... more forgetful of late. This was the first time we realized he'd forgotten their deaths. By the way, you handled his question well."
  "About Robert, you mean?"
  "Yes."
  "Oh," said Mara, "Well, I didn't know if it was my place to tell him. If you don't mind my asking, does anyone know why he's so forgetful?"
   Anne shrugged. "One would think his age is the cause, but then he is not that old. No more than King Silas, I should think."
  "King Silas is anything but forgetful," said Mara. "I wouldn't dare engage him in a battle of wits, either."
  "You think you would not be well-armed?" said Anne.
  "I think I would be unarmed," said Mara. "But I truly do hope the best for your King. That a salve for his forgetfulness is found. Perhaps it's the weight of the crown that burdens him so?"
  "Perhaps," said Anne, and continued her knitting.
  Another silence followed. Mara thought of reading a paragraph or two of her book, but found herself watching Anne as she knitted. "Did you know them?" she said. "Robert and Flora?"
  "I knew Flora," said Anne. "Before I married Rupert, Father and Mother would bring me when they visited Gildern on business. Flora and I would spend time together then."
  "What was she like?"
  "Oh," said Anne with a sigh, "She did enjoy music. Singing, especially. I'm no good at it myself, but she didn't seem to mind. We spent much time in the garden, picking flowers, then bringing them to her room to arrange them. She liked to play jokes on the servants, too."
  "Oh?" said Mara. "What sort?"
  Anne shrugged. "Just silly things like... oh, she would summon her handmaidens, then send them away if they weren't quick enough. And sometimes if they came too quickly, just to keep them from guessing. Or would order the wrong food on purpose and pretend that it was their fault. You know, silly things like that."
  "...I see," said Mara.
  Anne sighed again. "I do miss her. She really was quite sweet. She did love her tea parties. I miss Prince Robert, too, of course, though we'd traded a few words at best. He and Kelvin were always off somewhere, doing brotherly things. I miss him for his family's sake."
  "That's true for me, as well," said Mara. "It's Kelvin's pain that I feel, and his parents', too. They bear their pain well, but the wounds are deep. For all of Gildern. Everyone lost somebody."
  "So I heard," said Anne. "But enough sadness. Was your journey comfortable? Is there anything you'd like brought here? Something to drink? Surely you'd like a bath to be drawn."
  "Oh," said Mara. "A bath would be lovely, in time. Perhaps not this moment. Um..." She looked about the room. "Do you know where your children are?"
  "They're around," said Anne. "Probably in bed by now. I'll check on them before I turn in tonight. By the way, this may seem early for you, but have you chosen a nanny and nurse yet? It's important to find good ones, so you may need to cast a wide net."
  "I have not chosen anyone yet," said Mara. "But I have an excellent midwife. She-"
  "I meant for taking care of the children after they're born," said Anne. "And don't worry about wet nurses. Practically any lactating woman will do, though she needs to be healthy, of course."
  "...I have not chosen a wet nurse yet, either," said Mara. "But I should hope not to need one. I would hope that I could nurse him-- or her-- myself."
  "But that's the beauty of them," said Anne. "You don't even have to try when there's already someone right there, simply bursting with milk. I know, with your first child, you'll think you have to do everything on your own, but when I learned that I didn't have to, it made my life so much easier. The better the help is, the easier your life will be. Avail yourself of them. Trust me, you'll thank yourself for it."
  "I..." said Mara, straightening up, "I am grateful for your advice. But I think I would still... uh, first see what I can do on my own, and then... see how much help I need."
  "Suit yourself," said Anne. "But you know, it's the drudgery that they deal with. My children are the light of my life, but when somebody else cleans their messes, it makes them a little brighter, wouldn't you say?" She giggled.
  Mara shrugged. "I-I wouldn't know," she said. "That is, of course they're the joys of your life. I meant that I wouldn't know for myself. My hope is that I'm... there for my child, as much as I'm able to. I don't want it to grow up feeling as though no one is there for it."
  Anne peered at her. "Are you suggesting that my children have no one there for them?"
  "Oh, no, no, no!" said Mara, waving her hands. "I speak only for myself. Only for myself. You see, I did not... Well, it's not important, really. It's the past. I try to think only of the future now."
  Anne smiled. "You're worried about being a good mother?" she said.
  "Yes."
  "You'll do fine, dear," she said, patting Mara's knee. "And remember that you'll have a whole castle full of people that you can call upon at any time. That must be a comfort to you."
  "Oh, yes," said Mara. "I think I'd be grateful for any help. You say that-- the nurse and nanny-- they take care of 'drudgery?'"
  "Ah, you know," said Anne. "The messes that children make. Someone to wipe their bottoms and change their swaddling and clean the spit-up." She laughed and winked. "You'll find out soon enough, dear."
  "I'm certain that I will," said Mara. "It... it does sound tempting. I mean, someone else cleaning messes, certainly. I can't say that I enjoyed that sort of work, when I--" She caught herself, then shifted in her seat. "Uh... So... how often do you see your children?"
  "As often as I wish, of course," she said. "Some days more than others. For instance, I'm hosting your visit, so their caretakers know to keep them occupied unless they're called for."
  "Oh, please," said Mara, "Don't do that on my account. I would hate to be the one keeping you from them. I don't want-"
  "Tut, tut, dear, it's my pleasure to host you," said Anne. "Besides, they're learning when it's appropriate to visit and when it isn't."
  "So... there are times when children should be away?"
  "More like, near but unseen," said Anne. She set aside her knitting and stretched her arms. "Speaking of which, now would be a good time for me to do just that - see them. Mara, dear, would you think me rude if I turned in now?"
  "Of course not," she said. "I didn't realize how late it must be. By the way, how late is it?"
  "Fret not," said Anne. "I'm always early to bed. The sun goes down and I can barely keep my eyes open." She stood up and held out a hand. "Come; I'll walk with you to your room."
  "D-do you think I could...?" said Mara. "Would you mind if I joined you first in checking your children? B-but if it's a private moment between you all, I'll understand. I was just... I'm just curious."
  Anne pondered her question, then shrugged and nodded. "I wouldn't mind," she said. "Can't wait to start practicing, eh?"
  "I'm just trying to learn as much as I can," said Mara. "Thank you."

  The children were young enough that all three slept in the same room, or had been since the baby was able to sleep through the night. Before then Baby Elizabeth slept with the nurse and nanny. Anne whispered these things to Mara as they stood in the doorway, watching them sleep. They stood there for so long that she wondered if this wasn't the whole of it, or if Anne normally did more with the children, but did not wish to do so in Mara's presence. She was about to whisper to Anne that she would see herself to her room, when Anne finally went inside the room, moving carefully in the dark so as not to bump anything. Mara almost followed, then decided to linger in the doorway and even look elsewhere to offer some more privacy.
  She heard Anne whisper something, but could not make out the words, and may have heard a kiss, as well. This happened three times, and then Anne left the room and very slowly and carefully shut the door so as to make no sound. Then she sighed and smiled at her friend and offered an arm.
  "So quiet and peaceful in sleep," she said, guiding Mara through the dark corridors. "Of course you don't need to turn in. Stay up as late as you like."
  "No, I admit that I'm tired from all the traveling," said Mara. "But I do need to write something to send to Kelvin tomorrow, so sleep must wait until then. Would it be any trouble to ask for some candles? I'm afraid that I've used up mine."
  Anne chuckled. "So polite and apologetic," she said. "Of course it wouldn't be any trouble. Treat this castle as your own, and our servants as your own. Will you need paper, ink and a quill, as well?"
  "Now that, I have not used up," said Mara.

  The two women were quiet for the rest of the walk to Mara's guest room. Before she went inside Anne managed to flag down a nearby servant and order him to fetch candles for her guest. Mara called a thank you after him as he went about his errand, which amused Anne. She unwrapped her arm from Mara's and asked if there was any other need, and when the answer was no, she bade a goodnight and kissed her friend quickly on the cheek, then disappeared down the dark corridor.
  Mara thanked the servant again for bringing candles, then got busy lighting them and preparing her writing materials. She spent an hour just thinking of what to write, and then after starting, paused often to read through her words before continuing. She needed this letter to say exactly what she felt, and because it was difficult for her to articulate that as well as she liked, there was a lot of pondering between sentences.
  In all it took three hours for her to fill a single page, which for once was free of ugly ink blots obscuring her words. This was the cleanest letter she had ever written, by far. If it had been any less, she would have destroyed the paper and started fresh, but did not have to. After finishing the letter, she read through it half a dozen times in half a dozen ways to make sure it said exactly what she needed it to say. Even then she found herself second-guessing her own words, until sheer tiredness forced her hand. She carefully folded the letter and used some of the candle wax to seal it, and then wrote his name on the outside as clearly as she could.
  The deed done, she was free to climb into bed, but even the softness of the mattress was not enough to bring about sleep right away. Her mind kept "writing" the letter over and over, threatening to "rewrite" it, even, which she fought against. No! It was perfect! Time for sleep!

The Pauper Prince - Part 24

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 24

  "He promised I would go with him," she told Heather.

  "Wherever he goes, so would I! He said that!" she told Adrienne.

  "Even if it was to war, I said I would fight by his side!" she told a very puzzled Lucinda.

  The Queen's latest tea gathering included Princess Anne, Lucinda as always, and Cecily, the Duchess of Warbon, who Mara had learned was Kelvin's fourth cousin. To her relief, the Duchess appeared to have forgiven Mara for so brazenly stealing her cousin from her for a husband, but that may be because she had finally become betrothed herself. These ladies and several others were gathered and talking and laughing about many things, but mostly Mara's growing belly, Cecily's betrothal, and the solemnity of the war. All present were affected in some way by the event, whether by their own husbands taking part, or friends, or acquaintances. Duchess Ruth was present because her husband had sent her away from Gimsley as a form of protection. Whether or not she preferred to be by her husband's side, she did not say.
  Mara was the only one who kept silent during this gathering, other than to respond as briefly as possible to questions and comments. Most offerings of comfort were directed to the Queen, when Princess Anne remembered her peer.
  "Oh, Mara," she said. "We've been thoughtless. Scarcely out of your wedding dress and your husband is called away to war! And he has never fought until now."
  "He has trained for this his whole life," reminded the Queen.
  "Of course, your Majesty," she said. "That was not a reflection on his abilities. Gildern will surely rout the enemy!"
  "I'm supposed to be with him," said Mara flatly.
  Anne tilted her head, glanced at the Queen, then back to Mara and patted her hand. "That's so sweet of you, dear," she said. "You must miss him terribly."
  Mara turned slowly to look at her. Her expression was a blank. "I should be with him," she said. "Fighting with him. He promised me that. I promised him that."
  Again, Anne looked to the Queen in puzzlement. The Queen straightened up and cleared her throat.
  "Ah, Ladies," she said. "I do beg your pardon, and your indulgence. Let us... temporarily... disband our gathering, and the Princess and I will rejoin you posthaste. Please, take anything you wish with you, go out, visit the garden or just gather and talk. We'll be along presently."
  Some ladies took their tea and snacks with them, while others left empty-handed, but soon enough, Mara and the Queen were alone. The whole while Mara had watched them with a mix of confusion and concern. Her gaze lingered on the door after the last of them had left.
  "So," said the Queen, clasping her hands together. "Let us have it out."
  "Mother Queen," she said, "I-I don't understand what's happening."
  "We have not really spoken since he and our army left," said the Queen. "I am giving you the opportunity to do so. To unburden yourself."
  "...That's very kind of you, Mother Queen."
  "Be that as it may, speak your mind. Go. Have at it."
  After a silence, Mara shrugged. "I don't know what else to say, other than what I have been already."
  "And what would that be?"
  She shrugged again. "That I should be with him."
  "We all wish that, child," said the Queen. "I myself want nothing more than to take him in my arms, and keep him here, safe. But of course I cannot. He is a man - a Prince - and must... do his duty."
  "But he promised I would always be with him," she said. "We exchanged promises the day I gave him my sword. I would fight by his side.  And then... then when I reminded him of this, he said... he said he didn't mean that at all. That it was a metaphor. A word I've quickly come to loathe."
  "Ah," said the Queen. "He meant that you would always be 'with him' in his heart. Silas told me the same thing, whenever he had to lead his own men in battle. That is what a metaphor is-"
  "I know what it is," she snapped. "He's told me all of this."
  "Watch your tone, child," warned the Queen.
  "Forgive me," said Mara. "I just... I..."
  "I understand, child," she said, offering a comforting hand. "It's as Princess Anne said: newly married, and your husband is called away so abruptly. But that is the way of duty."
  "Duty," Mara grumbled. "I'm coming to loathe that word, too. Mother Queen, my promise to him was prose, not poetry. He's never fought before, but I have. He needs me there. He needs me to-!"
  "Wait, wait, wait, wait," said the Queen, holding up her hands. "What is it you're saying, now? That-- That you expected to actually accompany him to Gimsley? To fight there?"
  "Well-- Yes!"
  The Queen stared at her, long and hard. Mara wondered if she was expected to say more, when: "Have you lost your senses??"
  "Mother Queen, I am tired of being treated like some fragile thing of glass! I am not glass! I was raised to be strong! Not only that, but to fight! And-- and he tells me his promise was a 'metaphor.' A lie is what it really is! I cannot help but wonder what other 'metaphors' I've been told. When he says he loves me, is that one? Or when he's proud of me? Or are those all lies, too, like his promise??"
  "Enough!"
  Mara was startled into silence, then recovered after a few moments. "Mother Queen-"
  "I said Enough!"
  Mara was silent again, and stayed that way.
  "It is 'your Majesty' until I say otherwise," growled the Queen. Mara felt a chill in her spine. "I cannot believe what I hear now. I do not believe it! All this time, all these days, I thought you were grieving his absence, as were the rest of us, but this-- this is the true cause?"
  "Your Maj-"
  "Silence!" said the Queen. She was. "I have listened to your words, and now you will listen to mine! It is madness enough for you to grieve over your own foolish, wounded pride, but I will not sit here and tolerate your calling my son and your husband a liar! He was sparing your feelings, you insolent, uncaring child! In all this time, I have not heard one word - not one word of concern from you over him! Over his safety! His welfare! Nor the welfare of any others out there, fighting for these lands! Who now is the liar, then? Do you truly care a whit for him, or is that your own 'metaphor?'"
  Mara gasped. "How dare you-??"
  "For the final time, Silence!" bellowed the Queen, smashing a hand on the table. Mara flinched, this time in true fear. "Yes, I dare! You impudent, selfish, foolish girl! One more word - any word - from you without my leave, and I'll have you clapped in irons! You'll spend a night in a prison tower with naught but a hard cot, a chair and a pisspot! And the only reason you would have more than bread and water for a meal is because of the child, which you apparently don't give a damn about! Yes, I dare! You have shown only concern for your wounded pride and none for him, nor for the child you bear now! I have lost two children of my own, right in their coming of age! Is this something you have forgotten??"
  Fighting back tears, Mara dared not speak, but dared to shake her head.
  "If I could work my will," said the Queen, "Kelvin would be here, safe, forever. But then he would be abandoning his duty to King, Country, and to our allies! And as much as it pains me to see my only son - my only child! - leaving for God knows what horrors, there can be no other way. He cannot hide from his duty and still be King. For that, we must be proud of him, no matter our own selfish desires. And what of your duty? Your first duty to the kingdom? Do you remember that?"
  Mara looked over, uncertain if this was a test to trick her into speaking.
  "I give you leave," said the Queen. "Answer me!"
  "My... first...?"
  "Your first duty to the kingdom!" said the Queen. "You swore to it! Among other things!"
  "Heirs!" blurted Mara, quivering. "Heirs to the throne. Your Majesty."
  "And how are you fulfilling it?"
  Mara, puzzled, indicated her belly. The Queen scoffed. "There is more to it than a baby in your belly," she said. "What was your first thought towards it, with all that's happening now? What were you thinking?"
  "I don't-"
  "Do not answer!" said the Queen, pointing. "You no longer have leave. I will tell you. Your first thought was not to protect the child, to keep it safe and healthy. It was to strap on some armor, grab a sword and shield and rush yourself - and it - into a field of battle! Do not deny it!!"
  "Please..."
  "What was that?" said the Queen, leaning closer. "Was that a word? A word without leave? Do you prefer a cot over your warm bed? Is that it?" Mara clamped her mouth shut and shook her head. "I thought not. Should I regret having blessed the marriage? Should I??"
  Mara shook her head again. The Queen always sounded like herself, but Mara could not help but hear her father's voice, ranting and screaming in a drunken rage, though the Queen's anger was not fueled by alcohol. Mara unconsciously shrank in on herself and braced for a strike, which was how her father had usually punctuated his tirades. The Queen had not raised a hand against her, but it did not matter. She was in the same mental state now as she'd been for most of her childhood: terrified, but taking it. Tears flowed freely, but she made no effort to stop them or wipe them away.
  "You offered a promise of your own free will to support him," said the Queen. "To stand by him, no matter the consequences. Your own words, and this is how you 'support' and 'stand by him?' By heaping abuse on his name? By calling him a liar? Ridiculous, stupid girl! I am ashamed of you! Ashamed!"
  Mara could not stop the whimper that came from her. She clamped her hands over her mouth and prayed that the Queen did not mistake it for a word. The Queen did pause and stare as if daring her to make any other noise. Mara closed her eyes and shuddered.
  "I suppose I've said enough," said the Queen, with a veneer of calm. "You have leave to speak now. Freely, in fact. Words in your defense. A challenge. An explanation. Whatever you wish to say, you may say it."
  She waited, but Mara had neither the strength nor courage to speak. The Queen poured herself more tea and fixed it with her condiment - just a bit of lemon - and sipped at it while Mara made a supreme effort to compose herself. The Queen took the teapot and silently offered some, but Mara shook her head quickly. She uncompressed her body and unconsciously let her hands rest on her belly. It did not steady her hands, though.
  She said something so quietly that the Queen needed to lean forward. She peered at the Princess.
  "Did you say something?"
  Mara gathered what little strength and courage she had to straighten up and take in a breath. "I miss him," she whispered. The Queen opened her mouth as if to speak, then only nodded.
  "I have... lost my mother," she said. "In childbirth. And my father, in combat. But this is the first time I--" The tears caught up with her again, and she broke down, but just as quickly fought them back in order to continue. "The first time I've... that someone I truly care for... love... has left me. I love him, your Majesty. You may not believe me, but I love him... so much... with every-- everything within me, and-- and I know what he's going through now. I have been there. It's terrifying. I'm terrified. I'm terrified... for him. It's why I lost my senses and reason and thought of nothing but being with him, no matter the consequences." She touched her belly. "I spent so much of my life alone, yet now, I cannot bear to be without him! And if something ever happened to him--!"
  "No," said the Queen. "I cannot bring myself to say or think... such things. I cannot. He will come back to us. And not if he does. Will."
  "I understand, your Majesty," said Mara. "I can't let myself think the worst, either. I must not. But..." She covered her face in her hands. "You're right. I have brought shame to the family. I have ignored my duty. I am unworthy of him. Of you. Of the King. Of... of everything I have here!"
  "Child..." said the Queen, setting down her tea and tugging at one of Mara's arms.
  "I spoke in anger to him," she said. "My last words to him were in anger, and he... his words to me came from love. What have I done, your Majesty? What have I done??"
  The Queen stood up, then moved to the sofa to sit beside Mara, who withdrew and leaned away, shaking her head.
  "No," she said. "I don't deserve your touch. Please don't!"
  "Silence," said the Queen, but gently this time. She did not embrace Mara, but put a comforting hand on her back and rubbed it. "Love makes us foolish, child. And makes us strong. You see now the true price of duty and responsibility." Mara nodded. "But we must always pay it. Just remember that we pay it together."
  "I... I'm not sure I'm following you, your Majesty."
  The Queen laughed once. "Yes, I should speak plainly," she said. "I mean that you are not alone. He is our son, and your husband, and we all love him. We all miss him. We all wish we could be with him. That is what I meant about 'paying it together.' And I hope and pray that he knows how much we love him, and uses it to find the strength and courage to do what he must."
  "Yes," said Mara. "I pray it, too." She stopped and became somber again, her voice once again a whisper. "And yet I last spoke to him in anger."
  "And when he returns," said the Queen. "When he returns... you will make it up to him."
  "I will," she said. "A thousandfold. Or however much it takes. I pray that he forgives me."
  "He will," said the Queen, and they were both silent. The Queen stopped rubbing her back, and began pulling her into an embrace. Mara begrudgingly accepted it now, and eventually reciprocated. They held each other silently for a minute. The Queen patted her back twice, and they parted.
  "Daughter," said the Queen. Mara felt a flush of warmth. "You may call me Mother Queen, if you wish."
  "...Thank you."
  The Queen finished off her tea while Mara put her hand on her belly.
  "My first duty," she said, mostly to herself. She and the Queen traded looks. The Queen offered a small smile, which Mara returned, but uncertainly.

***********************

  It was two days later that Heather informed her Lady excitedly that, now that she had come of age - began bleeding, that is - she could be married. Her parents had been busily searching for a suitable husband even before that time, and it was with undignified giddiness that she could finally announce their decision: Leonard, the young guard and her long-time friend and now, her intended. It had taken some effort on both their parts to convince their respective parents to allow the union. To start, her parents' preference had been a man of equal or greater rank, which was a challenge, for a personal attendant to royalty was a very high rank indeed for a servant. Conversely, his own parents needed convincing for their son to marry someone of greater rank than he. They had been looking at cooks, seamstresses and others who would not overshadow a guard.
  To Mara's surprise Heather had used her marriage to Kelvin as an example of the odd concept of "love" being a suitable reason for such a union. If a Prince could marry a Countess for love, than why not the same amongst the servants? The Princess was touched and pleased to have given an unknowing stamp of approval to it.
  Mara reacted to the happy news with the traditional shouts of glee, tight embraces, and cheek kisses. Her assistant babbled happily about their plans - her parents' plans, that is, for they were the ones paying for it. Mara felt the shock and guilt from the Queen's blistering attack melt away as she just relaxed and let herself be swept up in the girl's joy. She could not help but smile and laugh with her and finally forget her own concerns, even if just for this moment.
  The only regret that Heather let slip was how much of a challenge it was to find time alone with her betrothed. This puzzled Mara, until she was reminded that those of the gentry could afford privacy. Even the highest of the servants shared quarters and common areas. Heather herself shared a room with three other handmaidens, and Leonard's "room" was the guards' barracks. Whatever time they had together was while alone in a crowd.
  Mara offered her sympathies, and then an idea came that excited her greatly. She offered her parlor to them for a private meal. To obscure the reason for their fancy meal, she would order it for herself and then serve it to them personally. They could even ring a bell to call her for anything they needed, and the Princess was getting so excited about the idea that her assistant could scarcely get in a word of uncertainty, let alone protest. Finally there was a pause in her narration that Heather took advantage of.
  "Mara, it would be too much," said Heather. "We shouldn't be alone in royal chambers. It wouldn't be proper."
  "Anyone may be my guest," said Mara. "There's no rule that I have to be there with them. Please; let me offer that gift to you. The first of many, I hope."
  "Many gifts?"
  "Well..." she said. "I won't be the only one helping you in your new life. But... I want to be one of them, if you'll let me."
  Heather pondered her offer in silence for a time, and then ultimately... did let her.

  The private meal happened just as Mara had described it to Heather. She ordered it for herself "and a guest," but why the Princess insisted on taking each course to her room personally was beyond the staff's comprehension. At one point she was balancing three plates on her left arm and a platter of drinks on her right hand, which impressed an awkwardly gushing Leonard. If only he'd known how often she'd done just that sort of thing at the Eleanor Elaine, but to her great vexation, that part of her life was a closed book to the public.
  The young couple were dressed in their finest, but given their differing stations, her finest outstripped his, but only he noticed. The Princess herself insisted that they both looked stunning together. Whenever she brought the next course, she quickly took the old dishes to her bedroom and stacked them up there before returning them to the kitchen - again, baffling the staff. Mara eventually told them that she had lost a wager with her guest and was supposed to do all the servant work that night, as the punishment. She loathed the lie, but better that than letting rumors get started. In between courses she returned to her bedroom and read while waiting for the bell. It took some convincing on her part for them to use it, but how else would she know she was needed?
  She almost regretted that it was now time for dessert, and walked a slower pace with the small tray, for she was having as much fun in her own way as the young couple. They were always smiling and laughing and chatting excitedly whenever she entered the parlor. She listened at the door, but heard nothing this time. It likely meant nothing, too, so she opened the door and stepped in.
  The couple was so engrossed in their mad kissing session that they did not hear or see her enter. Mara's eyes went wide, and she almost spoke, but first had the presence of mind to shut the door behind her quickly and quietly. And they still did not hear.
  She carried the tray to them, and still they carried on. She could not possibly have been treading that softly. After a few moments of looking one to the other, she bent over the table with the tray and held it several inches above, then let go. At least they heard the clatter. Heather shrieked, Leonard yelped, and they parted and sat up straight in an instant, as though that would erase what they'd been doing.
  "My Lady..." said Heather, hyperventilating.
  "I beg your pardon, your Majesty!" said Leonard, standing up and trying to rush past her. Mara caught his arm and held him in place. She gestured towards the settee with her head. He hesitated, then bent his head low and made his way back.
  "Leonard, it is... it's 'your Highness,'" Heather whispered after he sat back down.
  "What?"
  "You called her 'your Majesty,'" she explained. "The proper address is-"
  "Dear, that's not important right now," said Mara. "Both of you: please stand up."
  "Please, your Highness," said Leonard, once again standing. "Don't tell our parents. Or have us executed!"
  "Oh, Leo," said Heather. "She wouldn't have us executed." Then she suddenly became alarmed and concerned. "Right, my Lady?"
  Her Lady rolled her eyes. "Please turn around," she said. "Slowly." The couple did so. When they had made a complete turn, Mara folded her arms, hmm'ed to herself, then nodded. "You seem to be fully clothed," she said. "The whole truth, Heather: was your virtue compromised at any time?"
  "No, my Lady!" said Heather. "A most emphatic no! He-he has been a perfect gentleman. My virtue is... unblemished." Leonard stared at the Princess and nodded his head vigorously.
  She pondered her reply in silence, long enough to make them both uncomfortable. Leonard made a noise to speak, but Heather silenced him with a wave of her hand and a shake of the head.
  "Your parents should be told," said Mara finally. "But whether it is by me or by you, is what I'm trying to decide. I say this because..." She cleared her throat. "Uh, because Prince Kelvin and I also... embraced... as you were doing, before we married. And we did confess this to the King and Queen."
  "And they still let you marry?" said Leonard. This earned him a mild version of the Look, but even a mild version was powerful. He blushed and looked down. "O-of course they did, your Highness," he said. "I meant no disrespect."
  "I'll tell you what I will do right now," said the Princess. She pushed the tray of desserts to the center of the table and fixed their arrangement. "As you can see, I've brought your final course, and like before, I will retire to the room next door and occupy myself, and wait for your bell. And please do try at least one cake; they're my favorite kinds. We can work out later the who and the how of telling your parents."
  The couple watched her in stunned silence as she entered her bedroom and quietly shut the door behind her, just like she had all night. On the other side of the door, Mara paused, then dropped her regal facade and smiled and chuckled to herself. Marrying for love, indeed.

  The next morning Heather silently went about her duties for her Lady. Mara was also silent, preferring to let her offer anything she might wish to offer, and suppressed any smiles, which was especially difficult given the absolute glow that the girl was giving off. After Heather was done with her morning routine, and was about to take her leave, she paused at the door.
 "Mara?" she said.
  Her Lady nodded slightly and waited patiently for her to continue. Heather seemed to be having trouble getting out her words. Finally she gave up and rushed at her, almost knocking her over, and held her in a tight hug. Once the Princess regained her composure, she wrapped her arms around her assistant/friend and rested her chin gently on top of the girl's head. She would let Heather decide how long it lasted. About half a minute, it turned out. When they parted, Heather's face still glowed, and her smile had never been brighter.
  "The food was that good, hm?" said Mara, tucking her chin playfully.
  "I have no words," she said. "My Lady. Except 'thank you.'"
  "The pleasure was all mine," said Mara, stroking her curly, red tresses. "I wish you both every happiness. And what good is a 'master' who doesn't ever help the 'servant?' So to speak." She pulled the younger woman into another, quick hug, then kissed the top of her head before letting go.

*************************************

  Mara realized that she needed to confess about her "gift" to the King and Queen, in the spirit of keeping no secrets. Well, one secret was kept. They took the news with a certain amount of detachment, as if used to the strange way that she treated the help.
  They also noticed that the Princess' spirits and attitude had greatly improved of late; for one, gone was her constant gloom since the war had begun. In the King's case, the cause was unknown, for the Queen had not told him of her tirade against the Princess. While harsh, the Queen's talk had apparently been very effective. But the harshness came from her own anger, which she no longer felt. Affecting other improvements would require other methods, but fortunately she had several. It dawned on the Queen that she could take advantage of the Prince's absence and see what other flaws in the Princess' behavior and character could be corrected before he returned. For instance, this business of telling every servant she saw to forgo her proper title and address, to say nothing of personally serving them meals, and other oddities. These corrections would be a fine welcome-home gift for her son.

The Pauper Prince - Part 23

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 23

  Bells rang, people shouted "Huzzah!," well-wishers came or sent emissaries to do so, gifts were sent, feasts were held, and there was joy in Gildern. The Princess Mara was with child. For three weeks there were festivities almost daily of one kind or another, both in and out of the castle. In fairness, it did not take much reason for rich and poor alike to drop what they were doing and celebrate with music, singing, dancing, games, food and drink. Mostly drink. When one party spontaneously broke out in Allcourt upon the news, a day or two later most of the participants would be hard-pressed to remember the original reason for it. The people's hearts were in the right place, though.
  It was at this time that Mara realized that she had scarcely left the castle grounds since first arriving there, other than for tightly-controlled riding lessons. The farthest she had been was to see the five acres of land bestowed upon her by King Silas. Most of it was forest with, true to its name, a winding or "bending" river. Other than that she had not been back to Allcourt. Kelvin had, for official business as the Prince, and while he had not paid a surprise visit to Erick at the Eleanor Elaine, it surprised him that he encountered no one who had remembered him as Kenneth the Minstrel. Clothing, and a different demeanor, apparently really did make the man.
  She talked him into riding into town for an impromptu visit and a bit of nostalgia. She could not talk him into arriving in town incognito, nor on foot. He reminded her that it had taken a painfully long time to convince his parents to allow his mad, but ultimately successful, undercover mission to find a wife. Further diminishing the  fun was that the King and Queen refused to allow fewer than six guards accompanying them at all times. Her pleas that she could defend herself if needed fell on deaf ears. In a most base betrayal, Kelvin agreed with them. Her own husband sided with them in insisting that she be surrounded by protectors while riding through the very streets where she had once roamed freely without molestation. "Because you were just another commoner," he tried to explain. "You're a royal Princess now, not a pauper. And don't be surprised if people don't recognize the old you."
  The entourage of six mounted guards was led by Seamus, with two more seated behind the couple on their royal... cart. That was about the only compromise the royal family made with her; their vehicle was allowed to be open-air. The driver also doubled as an armed protector. Once they reached town, Mara made the best of it and smiled and waved at the surprised passersby they encountered. It was an impromptu visit, so there were no banners or decorations or people lining the streets to throw flowers or gifts to them, and she preferred it that way. People noticed and recognized them as they rode by - as the Royal Couple. Kelvin was correct; Mara waved and called out to people that she recognized, some of whom she had interacted with almost every day, and they waved back, but clearly not knowing why a Princess was giving them extra attention.
  The farther into town they rode, the larger the crowd became. The mounted guards tightened their circle around the cart, but not so much that passersby could not see in between. Most men removed their hats and bowed; the women attempted dips of varying success. People who waved got a big wave and smile back from the Princess, and a polite nod from the Prince. Those who called out congratulations or huzzahs received clear and strong thanks.
  They had no real plan or destination. If passing a familiar location, she would point it out and give Kelvin a "Remember that?" Most of the time he did not, but smiled and nodded to please her. It helped that the town was pretty much just as she had remembered, but then, it had only been about a year. He did, on occasion, need to remind her to keep her hands, arms, feet and legs inside the vehicle at all times, such as when she started leaning too closely to enthusiastic greeters.
  The cart and its entourage turned around near the end of the main road, and it was then that they saw how large the crowd had become. People had formed a parade of sorts behind them. It was going to be a bit of a challenge to get out of town at the same pace. She caught the beleaguered Seamus' attention and apologized. He responded with a mildly cynical smile. It was a minor miracle and testament to the leadership and skill of the Captain of the Guard, and his men, that they were able to make the return trip without being swamped by revelers. Even so, at one point, when the crowd was particularly loud and enthusiastic, she traded looks with her husband and silently acknowledged his "I told you so" expression. No longer "just another commoner," indeed. She unconsciously took his hand and held it tight the rest of the way through town.
  By the time they made it back to the Eleanor Elaine, the hubbub was enough to rouse Erick's curiosity. Mara saw him emerge from the inn, holding one of his typically old rags for wiping down tables. His eyes were not great for distance, so he peered for several seconds as the entourage drew closer. Mara had been waving all the while with no reaction, and she was starting to wonder if even he, like all the others, would not recognize her. Then Kelvin leaned forward, looked his way, gave something like a wave-salute, and smiled. The lamp of recognition inside Erick's head finally lit up, and he dropped his rag, and his jaw, and watched this very familiar Royal Couple ride by. The Princess who had once emptied pisspots for him now gave him a good-natured shrug, blew him a kiss, and turned around to keep watching him as they finished riding out of town and back on the road to the castle.
  "I wish we could have stopped," she said, taking Kelvin's arm and leaning close to him. "It would have been nice to talk to Erick again. See how he's doing these days."
  "Probably still underpaying his workers," said Kelvin. "And your walking about would have presented Seamus and his men too much of a challenge, I'm afraid," said Kelvin.
  "I know," she said and was pensive. "My walking about, you say. When you've been back there several times already."
  "They won't let me come unguarded, either," he said. "My days as Kenneth the Minstrel are over."
  "In that case," she said, "I'm very glad I was able to meet him." She took his hand and kissed it reverently. "Thank you for indulging me, Darling."
  "Always," he said, and put his arm around her.
  "Hmph," she said. "Perhaps we should try to return incognito next time. Sneak out late at night or something." He looked at her in alarm, until she flashed him an impish grin. He smiled back mildly, then exchanged many long kisses with her. The first time they had taken this road together, she was worried that far-off peasants would see them holding hands. Now their accompanying guards could watch them make out for the next several miles, and she did not care.

*******************************

  Under normal circumstances Mara would have found the humor in the royal family's presentation of her as the beatific bearer of the throne's next heir (assuming the child was male), versus the reality of her spending many of her mornings on her hands and knees, spewing into a bucket. But she felt just too horrible to even muster a chuckle. It was only because her midwife, and Sir William, for that matter, had warned about this experience that she did not entirely believe that she was dying... even if it often felt that way. As much as Kelvin wanted to make her discomfort go away, the best he could offer were comforting touches and words.  They helped her more than she could convey to him.
  She complied with the family's wish for her to visit Sir William for monitoring of the child's growth and medicine meant to "balance her humors." Once she was done with those visits, she went to Adrienne and followed her advice instead. The midwife was careful not to speak ill of the Royal Physician's advice, but Mara felt free to be dismissive. Ultimately nothing that either practitioner gave her stopped the nausea or all-around lousiness, but crackers and sucking on ice did help more than the doctor's foul-smelling, and tasting, herbs and potions. The latter ended up taking trips down a toilet hole after making her feel worse. All fine as long as the family didn't catch her at it.
  It was when her taste and smell had altered enough to make her vomit immediately after entering the kitchen, that her duty of running the same was removed. Some would argue forcibly, given the strength of her protestations against the decision, but the Queen, and in yet another base betrayal, the Prince, would not budge. While inwardly conceding that they were correct, for she was no good to the staff if she could not stand being around raw food, she had been getting into a "groove" for the work, and as always, liked being busy.
  Suddenly her only "duty" was to lie or sit around and do nothing but feel nauseated, with little except sedentary activities to pass the time. Riding her horse was forbidden now, lest the child be shaken from the womb, to say nothing of her combat lessons with Seamus. For the latter, she had finally swallowed enough of her pride to ask for and receive them. Then the lessons became no-nos as soon as her pregnancy was confirmed. At least she could still practice archery, as long as she kept her movements to a minimum.
  She was also permitted to sit with the family while they held court. As always nobility of all ranks drifted in and out, unloading their problems, offering advice but usually being offered it, attempting to influence decisions, attempting to gain favor, or attempting to just look cool in the royals' presence. Count Richard often asked about roads and bridges. The Duke of Gimsley was concerned about the kingdom of Breech pressing against his northern borders. Mara cringed inwardly at the mention of her homeland and hoped no one would remember where she was from. The most distant visitor of late was a Prince from Dunhoart, who... just seemed to be there. She guessed that his purpose was to suss out Gildern as a potential ally. Hopefully an ally, that is.
  A highlight of these times in court was the bestowing of knighthood on worthy subjects. She had learned that gaining a knighthood took years of work, loyalty and devotion to King and Country, so it was a joyful occasion to see the pride in their faces, and in the faces of their gathered loved ones, as the King dubbed them "Sir." Aside from Sir William the physician, there were other knights in and around the castle grounds, including Seamus, who for reasons of his own never insisted on being addressed by a title. At least she knew she wasn't the only one with that inclination, even if her in-laws only just tolerated that "quirk."
  Commoners also came to present grievances. They were typically elected representatives, such as mayors or guild masters. Some came to represent themselves. Mara noticed that the family listened to all visitors, regardless of their station, and seemed to lay down fair judgments. All this time in court required quite a lot of sitting, but at least she was learning something.

*************************

  The day came when Gimsley called for aid. Now Breech was not just pressing borders, but actively trying to erase them. And Gildern answered: ride to its ally's aid. Just like that, its army was being assembled. King Silas had led men to war three times in his lifetime; now it was, to his and the Queen's great regret, Prince Kelvin's time to take his place. He had never been called upon to fight before, but had trained with Seamus and others for most of his life, and been tutored in the ways of leading in battle for just as long.
  Mara was as alarmed and dismayed as any of them, but perked up when she realized that she could finally make good on a promise she had made to him. That they had made to each other. And at last, she had gone a full week without being debilitated by nausea, so that horror was surely behind her.

  Heather did not understand what she was helping her Lady pack for, but did so nonetheless. She was tasked with selecting clothing for her lady, but everything she picked was dismissed outright. Finally the Princess heaved them all aside and made a final search in the wardrobe before slamming the doors shut.
  "Nnngh, I have nothing to wear!" she said, and paced in frustration.
  "I beg your pardon, Mara, but I wish I knew what you need? Is it something to see off your husband and the men in? Something elegant, but solemn?"
  "Hm?" said Mara, her brooding interrupted. "No, no, I need protective clothing, suitable for travel and combat. Armor, in fact. I can't find my old leather and leggings. I didn't throw them away myself, I know that! Who would do that?? And Kelvin has my sword, which is his now, so I won't take it back, but I'll need a weapon. Something from the armory."
  "I--!" said Heather, then froze. When she was flustered, her conditioning kicked in. "My Lady, I am here to serve, but I know not how!" She held out her hands in supplication. Mara stared at her, then shook her head and smiled gently. Her assistant was always so well-meaning and sincere, she couldn't be angry with her.
  "It's all right, dear," she said. "You've done nothing wrong. I just need to talk to my husband. Please, just-- do nothing else for packing until I return. Relax."
  "Yes, My Lady."

  The Prince had his own attendants helping with packing. His parents were also there to offer final words of advice and encouragement. Mara burst in on this, already talking, then froze. The Queen took her by the hand and led her to join the others.
  "Now we are all here for you, my son," said the Queen. "We are..." She took a deep breath. "We know that you are doing your duty, and we are all proud of you."
  "Thank you, Mother," said Kelvin, pausing in his packing to give her and his wife kisses on the cheek. Mara opened her mouth to speak, but-
  "I prayed this day would never come," said the King, and tried to say more, but tightened his mouth and was silent.
  The Queen put a hand on his shoulder. "Come," she said. "We should leave him to his preparations. We will see him off with the others soon."
  The King nodded, and they made to leave. The Queen paused after noticing Mara lingering, and gestured for her to follow.
  "I-I was hoping to..." said Mara. "I still have questions, so..."
  The Queen and the Prince exchanged nods, and Mara was left with him alone but for the attendants. Kelvin caressed her face before exchanging a long kiss. When he moved away, she took his hand to stop him and held it while speaking.
  "I haven't been able to pack," she said. "I have nothing but frilly things these days. I need your help to find proper protection. And weapons!"
  Kelvin opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and just stared for a few moments. Then: "What?"
  "Protection," she said. "Weapons. Armor, if there's anything that will fit me. You remember my promise to fight by your side?" Kelvin, still staring, managed to point at her belly, but she ignored or did not understand the gesture. "And you promised that wherever you go, I'd go, too."
  "I..." he said, then shook his head vaguely. "What?"
  "Why do you keep saying that?"
  "When did I say you'd be going with me to war?"
  "When I gave you my sword," she said impatiently. "You said you would-- Well, first I said that I'd fight with you if you ever had to go to war. Darling-" She clasped both her hands around his. "-I have fought before; you haven't. You haven't seen what a battle is like. I can... help you through those things. And even if, for whatever reason, I'm unable to wield a weapon, I should still be there, with you. And you said that wherever you go, so would I. Why this confusion?"
  Kelvin looked away slightly, thinking back on that day. "I said.... I said you would be with me. Not actually at my side."
  "Not--?" she said. "What on earth was it supposed to mean, if not that?"
  "In my heart," he said, touching his chest. "In my thoughts. You will be with me. Do you understand? I-- Darling, it was a metaphor!"
  "A what?"
  "You gave me your sword," he said, looking about the room for it. An attendant found it and handed it to him. "Your most prized possession. This represents you. It's with me, and so will you be. Now do you understand?"
  It was her turn to stare in confusion, then annoyance. "That is the most ridiculous-!"
  "Mara!" he cried with such force that she shrank back. "You are with child! My child! The kingdom's child! There is no battlefield for you!"
  "I--! I am not helpless!" she said, regaining her courage. "Why is everyone treating me that way??"
  "No one has said that you're helpless," he grumbled in frustration.
  "I'm being treated that way!"
  "I don't have time for this," he said, throwing up his hands. "You must leave now. I-- You cannot come with me. That is no metaphor; you are literally not accompanying me to a war! It is done!"
  "Metaphor," she growled. "I curse the day I ever heard the word. A lie is what it is!"
  Kelvin beckoned an attendant to him and pointed at Mara. "Please," he said. "Please see her out."
  "Yes, m'lord," said the attendant.
  "!! I'm being dismissed??"
  The attendant held out a hand to her. "Your Highness?"
  She recoiled at his gesture, but began backing up to the door. "I will see myself out," she said. She pointed at Kelvin. "You promised. I was not the one who broke mine. You need me with you!"
  "...I need you here," said Kelvin quietly, his eyes moistening, but she was too angry to notice. She opened the door and prepared to storm out, and pondered adding a dramatic slam. "Mara," he said again, and she paused. "I love you."
  Her anger was barely abated, but it was enough to convince her to close the door normally.

***********************

  Wails of sorrow, tears, sad songs and music filled the courtyard as guards and soldiers prepared to depart. Those with wives and children attempted to comfort them. Friends embraced. Not all guards were leaving, only those who had fought or trained as soldiers before, and the castle was not to be unguarded, either way. As a matter of example, Seamus would accompany his Prince to Gimsley and fight. Leonard, the guard Mara had met the same day as Heather, would stay behind and help defend the castle if needed.
  She stood with the royal family and their attendants as Kelvin finished up his business with Seamus and other soldiers. They were all going to ride out to meet up with the army and shorten the three-day journey if possible. She noticed that the King and Queen were keeping up their dignified appearances in spite of the dramatic overtures around them. It was a struggle for her to do the same, given her anger with her husband. "Metaphor," indeed!
  Now came the time for him to approach them and make his farewells. He hugged his father tightly and held it, then parted and traded kisses on the cheek. For his mother, the same, followed by one more embrace. For his dear wife, he took her hands and tried to exchange a loving gaze, but she had trouble meeting it. Her hands were shaking. He attempted a smile.
  "Will you be strong for me?" he said softly.
  She tightened her mouth and held up her chin. "I am strong," she said.
  He pulled her into a hug, rested his chin on her shoulder and closed his eyes. She kept her eyes open and tried to fight back tears. After they parted, he took a moment to lay his hands on her growing belly.
  "Darling," he said, "If I don't make it back-"
  "Son!" said his mother, dabbing at her eyes.
  Kelvin shook himself from those thoughts and held out a hand to her. "Mother, forgive me," he said. "We'll not speak of that again." To Mara, "Before I go, perhaps I could take your favor with me?"
  Mara looked to the Queen, then back to him. "I... You have my sword. So I can 'be with you.' That is my favor."
  "So it is, Darling," he said, and kissed her hand several times before leaving them. An attendant had brought his horse. He mounted it smoothly and looked back at his family one last time before galloping through the courtyard.
  Mara could stand it no longer. The dam holding back her tears burst, and she began to run after him. "I should be with you!" she cried. "You promised! Why can I not be with you? Whyyyyy?"
  "What in the world-??" said the King, exchanging startled looks with the Queen. He pointed at some guards. "Why are you standing there?? Don't let her leave the grounds!"
  For a pregnant woman, she gave her pursuers a good chase. Their strategy was to block her path over grabbing or pushing, considering her rank and condition. Mara dodged them angrily and tried to order them away, but they were answering to a higher power. She managed to reach the main gates, but stopped herself and leaned against the wall, bitter tears blinding her vision of the Prince as he disappeared quickly into the distance. Suddenly her strength failed, and she slid down to the ground, sobbing all the way and repeating, "You promised... You promised..." Most of the guards kept their distance to allow her this moment, until after a minute, Leonard was the one who stepped forward to offer his hand. She just stared at it a long time before finally allowing herself to be pulled onto her feet and escorted back to the King and Queen.
  The King glared at her for her grossly undignified display. The Queen put a comforting hand on her as they made their way back inside, their solemn silence occasionally interrupted by Mara's shudders.

The Pauper Prince - Part 22

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 22

  Mara's apprenticeship with the Queen to become Mistress of the Castle had grown to include the task of taking notes during their inspections and meeting minutes with the master tradesmen (and women). Ordinarily this would have remained the task of an attendant or handmaiden, but she had made the mistake of admitting to the Queen that she did not enjoy writing and postponed her practices until just before the lessons. The next time out with the Queen, she was getting more "practice" than she would ever want. Whether or not anyone could read her notes, including the Princess herself, was another matter.
  She thought that the kitchen would be the last place the Queen would give up, but was surprised to be handed the reins of that most important part of the castle's life. More accurately, half the reins. Organizing banquets and other feasts was still very near and dear to the Queen's heart, but the day-to-day running was left to her royal apprentice. This meant keeping track of the quality and quantity of all food and drink of every kind, not to mention the inedibles such as the cookware, tools and equipment, and handling the concerns of the staff. Her days became very busy, very quickly, and she was not even performing manual labor! But of course, could and would if called upon to.

  "It just occurred to me," said Kelvin in a rare instance of not falling asleep straight after their time in the bedroom. Mara had taken her usual post-coitus position of lying on her side and resting her hand on his chest. Her eyes were closed as usual, but she was not sleeping.
  "Mmm," she hummed. "Has it?"
  "I think I might have become Erick," he said.
  She opened her eyes. "And I have no idea what to make of that."
  "You said that he offered to let you run his inn," he said. "Upon marrying him, that is. I promised to take you away from that. And yet, here you are, running the castle's kitchen. Which is much more work than running his small inn would be. Or maybe that's not a good analogy, after all. It just struck me as... a little bit amusing. Don't you think?"
  He waited for her answer and glanced her way several times. For the longest time she was silent, brow furrowed, until just before he was about to speak again, she failed to stifle a snicker, then burst out laughing. She turned onto her back and laughed heartily, dragging him into her wake of guffaws, until they were both in tears, out of breath and lightheaded. They took deep breaths to calm themselves, then turned towards each other and smiled at the same time, in the same goofy way. The laughter started all over again.

**************************

  It was a cold day as Mara made her way to Adrienne the midwife's a mere six weeks after the wedding. She carried two books with her: the Astronomy book and another for Medicine. She really was supposed to keep them indoors but had bookmarked the pages she needed and thought it wise to have visual aids, in case she lost her words.
  Adrienne had a front room with some sitting furniture and end tables. As she entered, she could hear Adrienne and her daughter/apprentice Annabelle in the next room, which was for consultation and examinations. Like most of the tradespeople in the castle, they lived above their own workplace. Mara had been upstairs once, and was impressed with how well the small space was organized and kept clean. Adrienne lived with her husband Frederick, who worked in the stables, Annabelle, and Frederick's mother. Annabelle would live with them until her own marriage was arranged. Adrienne had one other daughter and a son, both of whom were married and lived outside of the castle, to their parents' regret.
  Mara pondered whether to ring the little bell in the sitting room. She had no appointment and did not feel entitled to interrupt the examination that was in progress, from what she could determine by the sounds. She sat quietly in a chair next to the window and kept the books in her lap, sometimes flipping idly to different pages while waiting. Eventually she heard Adrienne giving final instructions to her patient, but tried not to eavesdrop, and the midwife's voice grew louder until the door was opened. Adrienne emerged, escorting an  impressively pregnant woman about Mara's age. At the sight of her, the women stopped walking and were silent. Mara blushed.
  "Oh," she said, "I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to stare."
  Both women replied to her apology by dipping into shallow curtsies. The pregnant woman lost her balance and started to stumble. Mara was on her feet and over to assist so quickly, she forgot about the books, which clattered to the floor. She and Adrienne helped the girl onto a bench, and then Mara groaned at herself and rushed back to the books, inspecting them for any damage. The bookmark had fallen out of one of them, but they were otherwise not much worse for wear.
  "Your Highness," said Adrienne, "Do you need assistance?"
  Mara looked up quickly from her inspection, and carefully closed the books and set them aside. "I'm fine," she said. "And the books will live. I hope. Oh! Now I remember!  Um..." she pointed at the woman, who was standing again with Adrienne's help. "Ophelia, yes? A seamstress?"
  Ophelia's face beamed. She clasped her hands together. "Yes, your Highness; I am Ophelia," she said. "And one of our seamstresses. How kind of you to remember!"
  "How long were you waiting out here?" said Adrienne. "If you rang the bell, please forgive us for not hearing it."
  "I didn't ring it," said Mara, waving it off. "Do you mind if I ask-" She pointed to Ophelia's belly. "-When the child is expected to come?"
  "Three months, your Highness," said Adrienne, patting her patient's belly proudly and smiling.
  "Adrienne, you know I don't-" said Mara, gesturing nervously, "Just Mara. Please. And for you, Ophelia. We're all just women here, yes?" Her smile was genuine, but the laugh was nervous and forced. "You know... I was wondering, uh, Ophelia... if, after the child is born, and it's not an imposition, if... you wouldn't mind my... stopping by to visit? To see the child? But only if it's no trouble!"
  Ophelia's response was to stare at her, making Mara wonder if she'd been offended somehow, or was trying to think of a polite way to say "No, thank you." Instead her face was again brightened by a big smile. She clasped her hands together again, as well. "We'd be honored by your visit, Your Maraness!"
  "Oh, that would be-- Wait, what did you call me?"
  "Your-- What did I just say?" said Ophelia, and quite unexpectedly became agitated. She covered her face in her hands. "Oh, my goodness, what did I just say??" Her face was buried and her nose was sniffling.
  "Ahhhhh, why is she crying?" said Mara, alarmed, to Adrienne. "Why are you crying??" Annabelle also emerged from the back room, no doubt curious about the noise. She and Adrienne each put an arm around the distraught woman and began leading her outside.
  "It's... what pregnant women do," Adrienne whispered as they passed by.
  "I'm not offended, I swear it!" Mara called after them. "In fact, I think 'Your Maraness' is quite amusing! Well said, Ophelia!"
  Adrienne returned first after leaving her daughter in charge of discharging her patient. Mara pointed to the outside.
  "Does she know there's no reason for tears?" she said.
  "Yes," said Adrienne. "But that is the way of childbearing, I'm afraid. Every feeling you've ever had, you feel again... a hundredfold. Now: how may we be of service to you, 'Your Maraness?'"

  In the back room, Adrienne and Mara sat side by side while Annabelle busied herself with cleaning and preparing for any other patients. Mara had the Astronomy book on her lap, opened to an illustration of the moon's phases.
  "I am sorry that we've not had tea in a while," said Mara. "I've been much less idle than I used to be, I'm afraid."
  "I can imagine," said Adrienne. "And you need never apologize for that. Of course you're not 'idle.'"
  "I just wanted you to know that I haven't forgotten," said Mara, returning her attention to the book. "Meanwhile, to the reason that I'm here: this phase here is called waxing gibbous. I knew it was a waxing moon, but not the 'gibbous' part, and there are actually two phases called 'waxing,' and two called 'waning,' and named the same way." She smiled and looked at Adrienne, whose expression was one of practiced patience. Mara's smile faded, and she continued. "Um... I show you these because... uh... you see, it has always been during the waxing gibbous moon - not the waxing crescent, you see - when I would, uh..." She moved her arm nervously in a circular motion "-I would bleed. You know. Always then."
  "Oh," said Adrienne quietly, nodding, "Now I see what you mean." She looked to her daughter, who had her back to them and was still cleaning. "Annabelle! Why have you not offered food and drink to Her Highness? To the Princess?"
  Annabelle looked over, confused. Then: "Oh, I'm sorry, Mother! Your Highness!" she said, and ran upstairs faster than Mara could protest. Adrienne sighed and shook her head.
  "Daughters of these times," she said. "They're raised on castle grounds and still forget all manners. Did she even dip to you?"
  "I admit that I hadn't noticed," said Mara. "Such things don't concern me much. You know, I really don't need food or drink; I'm fine. But thank you; I will accept whatever she brings. But back to... It sounds like you know about the moon phases, then?"
  "Mmm, not-"
  "Oh!" said Mara. "Did you know that we only ever see the same side of the moon? The same part of it always faces the earth as it moves. Isn't that fascinating? Also-"
  "Your Highness," said Adrienne. "Sorry - Mara. May I?" She reached for the book, and Mara let her close the book carefully and set it aside, but not before Mara grabbed the book of Medicine and put that on her lap.
  "Forgive me," said Adrienne, "But I am wondering, what it is you're trying to say?" Mara took a deep breath, then started flipping through her new book. Adrienne put her hand on the Princess's to stop her. "Just tell me," she said gently.
  "Well..." said Mara. "I told you that I, I bleed during the waxing gibbous moon."
  "Which happened... about a week ago?" said Adrienne.
  "Yes," said Mara. "About a week ago. You see, I have always-- Ever since it began for me, I've been-- very-- on time. In sync with that phase. Always. I mean, really, it's remarkable, when you think about it. Being so regular. When it's near that time, I know, so... I'm able to prepare. And of course I did prepare for this last time. But then, um... then, um..." She resumed flipping pages of the book and scanning them. "There's a part in this book that talks about women's bleeding, and..."
  She sighed in frustration from her lack of finding the right page and closed the book, but kept it in her lap. Adrienne again placed her hand on the Princess's, and squeezed it gently this time.
  "But you know all this, don't you?" said Mara. "You told me yourself about this. You don't need this book. But I remember what you told me about our bleeding, and what it means if we do... or don't..."
  "I see," said Adrienne, nodding. "My Lady, are you trying to tell me that you did not bleed when expected?"
  She nodded but said nothing.
  "Have you spoken to Sir William about this?" said Adrienne.
  Now Mara shook her head and scoffed. "Ahh, the Royal Physician," she said. "They've been making me go to him since-- since practically our first day together and-- and give him my urine so he can study it, but he sees - or smells or tastes, too, I suppose - nothing new about it. This book mentions such a test, but it doesn't say how to do it, or I'd do it myself. What about you? Do you know how to study urine? I'd rather you do it than him."
  "Well, let's see if we can avoid urine samples for the moment," said Adrienne. "First, may I assume that you and His Highness have been... intimate? You have consummated the marriage, yes?"
  Mara pondered her question a moment, and then her cheeks turned a fantastic shade of rose. "Ah," she said. "Why is everyone so keen about that? Everyone. Even my good friend, she, she wants details and stories and-"
  "I beg your pardon, my Lady," said Adrienne. "My interest is strictly professional. I don't need details or stories, only a 'yes' or 'no.'"
  "Ah, I beg your pardon," said Mara. "Of course you would need to know. So: Yes. We have consummated."
  "Very well," said Adrienne. "Then my next-"
  "Often."
  "...What was that?"
  "We have consummated... often," said Mara, nodding to herself. "Very often. Daily. Sometimes two or three times a d-"
  "I-I understand what you mean, my Lady," said Adrienne. Mara realized what she'd been doing and blushed at her own words. "My next question would be if you feel any... differently of late? For instance, do you feel any sort of uneasiness? Nausea, even, most commonly in the morning? Changes in appetite or appeal of foods? The... intensity of feeling that I mentioned earlier? And that you saw."
  Mara pondered all of her questions, and shook her head as an answer to all.
  "That's fine, that's fine," said Adrienne. "If you do experience any of that, it's typically a month or two later."
  "Later.. since what?"
  Adrienne sighed. "Well, first, I would recommend that you wait another week. I know that you have always, until now, bled regularly, but just in case, we'll wait another week. If you still have not bled by then, and Sir William concurs-"
  "Why him?" said Mara. "I don't know why I must consult with him about anything like this. He's not a woman."
  "You are correct," said Adrienne. "He is not a woman, but he is the Royal Physician, and I am but a midwife to the women of the castle grounds. It's not my place to make any proclamations."
  "Well... I am a woman of the castle grounds," she said. "Wait, you've not yet said what you think. If I don't bleed for another week, then...?"
  Adrienne shrugged. "Then it would be a good indication that you are with child."
  "Oh, congratulations, your Highness!"
  Annabelle had come downstairs so quietly that Mara had not heard, and was startled by the girl's declaration. She was bearing a tray of tea and assorted biscuits, and carefully set it down on the table next to the women.
  "Am I the first to congratulate you?" she said, smiling and setting out cups and saucers for her mother and the Princess.
  "Annabelle, she is consulting me only," said Adrienne. "Do not come to conclusions!"
  "I'm sorry, Mother," she said. Mara accepted tea from her and thanked her with a big, warm smile, then fixed it with her usual condiments before taking a sip. "Even so, I do wish you the best. The whole kingdom does!"
  Mara froze midway at taking another sip, then set the cup back down and stared absently at a spot on the floor. She heard the mother and daughter speaking, but was not focused on their words.
  "Annabelle, thank you," said Adrienne, "But please return upstairs. This must be a private talk. And most importantly, nobody has come to any conclusions about the Princess. Understand?"
  "Yes, Mother," said Annabelle a little dejectedly, and made for the stairs, then turned and quickly dipped to Mara before resuming her journey. Mara, still looking elsewhere, did not see.
  "The whole kingdom..." she said quietly to herself.
  "What was that, my Lady?" said Adrienne, taking a bite from a biscuit.
  "Oh, just..." said Mara, returning to alertness, "Everyone being so interested in my life. Especially about-" She indicated her belly "-This. Because there's nothing else I'm able to do."
  "Oh, I'm sure it isn't that," said Adrienne, again putting a comforting hand on hers. "But yes, we're all terribly interested in everything that the royal family does, especially when it comes to making more of them. On the other hand, if everyone suddenly lost interest in children, I wouldn't have much to do, would I?"
  Mara was lost in her own thoughts a moment, until Adrienne's last words finally seeped in. She turned to the midwife, then laughed and squeezed her hand.
  "Adrienne," she said, now somber, "You know what I fear most, yes?" Adrienne did not seem to. "You know what happened to my mother."
  "Yes."
  "And though..." she said, straightened up, as if steeling her courage, "And though it may be that I am not cursed to suffer the same fate, w-we have talked about it. You have... encountered it before."
  "I have," said Adrienne. "Six times in my work thus far."
  "Six," said Mara. "Out of many, you say. So it's not... that common."
  "No, my Lady."
  "And yet," she said, pausing to finish her cup of tea and set it back on the platter. "Many things do run in families, curses or none."
  "Mara-"
  "Did the mother need to be cut?" she said. "Each time?"
  Adrienne fidgeted, looked away, looked back, fidgeted some more. "The child has always lived."
  Silence. Mara was deep in thought again, then nodded. The midwife did not need to say more.
  "Well," said Mara. "I suppose there's nothing else to be done, but wait. And pray."
  "My Lady," said Adrienne, touching her arm. "My friend. I have midwifed for the better part of two decades and have felt every bit the pain, the terror, but also the joy that bearing and birthing a child brings. It requires a strength that a woman never knew she had or will ever have again, and yet it is there, time after time. And every loss - every loss - cuts me deeply. But I tell you this: if... if you decide to honor me, that I would care for you and your children, know that I never give less than my best. The best of my knowledge, the best of my experience. Just... my best."
  Mara stared at her with a puzzled expression. "If I decide to?" she said. "There's no decision to make. That was done the first time we met."
  "Then I am honored," she said. "You've never said, so... I did not want to assume anything."
  "Then that was my error," said Mara. "Consider it corrected... my friend."

The Pauper Prince - Part 21

The Pauper Prince
Chapter 21

  Kelvin did not object to mingling with the commoners during the wedding reception, for this had been planned long ago; he objected to his wife's timing for it. Nevertheless he had made the best of their hour-long visit before excusing the both of them from the room and all but running with her in tow to their bedroom. They did not leave the room until after noon the next day, and only then to get some food and drink and return.
  Over the next several weeks Mara became aware of the extraordinary willpower he must have been employing during their betrothal. No, not only during that time, but almost half his life, for since coming of age he had insisted on remaining just as "pure" as any potential bride for him was required to be. It was his own way of protesting a law that he could not yet overturn. Extraordinary willpower, indeed, because now that the vows had been spoken and the pronouncement made, there was not a moment of the day or night when he was not ravenous for her. She was hungry for him, to be sure, but also saw a use for eating, drinking, resting, and having conversations with different people. Her new husband rushed through those necessities of life to get back to their wedding bed and erase from all history his first-day awkwardness.
  He never forced himself on her, which was very much his right as her new lord, but relied on persuasion. Sometimes very persistent persuasion, but still only words and not force. It was as Adrienne the midwife had supposed; his wife's pleasure was as important to him as his own. Thankfully, the importance was mutual for them.

  During a now-rare time to indulge in her own interests, Mara was hosting tea for the Countess and reading from a new history book given to her as a gift. She had progressed enough in her reading ability to read almost at the speed of normal speech. Sometimes she needed Lucinda's help with a complicated or foreign word, which the Countess was happy to give.
  Lucinda and her husband, Count Richard, did not live at the castle, but given that he was the Count of Kingsbrook, which included the town of Allcourt, their presence was common enough that they might as well be permanent residents. There were many other Lords and Ladies who drifted in and out of the Great Hall at any time, for such was life at a royal castle.
  The Countess had also resumed her attempt to "trade stories" with Mara, but grew frustrated with her friend's reluctance to put forth any details. To wit, she was unsatisfied by Mara's insistence that she was "satisfied."
  "Well, then," said the Countess, pouring more tea for them, "I am truly happy for you both."
  "Thank you," said Mara, fixing her cup with sugar and cream. "Look, I know you're very keen to hear long, detailed stories, but it strikes me as... disrespectful. I wouldn't want him telling stories about me, either."
  Lucinda stifled a snicker.
  "What?"
  "My dear," she said, "Men do tell stories."
  Mara stared at her open-mouthed, face paling. "No," she whispered. "No, h-he wouldn't do that. He couldn't!"
  "I only tell you what I know about men," said Lucinda. "Besides, women talk, too."
  "But I've been trying not to," she said. "Or have I said too much as it is? I will ask him if he's been speaking about us. That's what I'll do."
  "But be prepared for him lying about it," said Lucinda.
  Mara became indignant. "We do not lie to each other! I-i-if I asked him, 'do you speak about us?' I'm sure he would be truthful. And I would be the same for him."
  The Countess looked away in thought while the Princess finished her tea and pulled out the history book again. "Shall I read more?" she said.
  "Hm?" said Lucinda. "Oh, that. May we continue a tiny bit later? I have another question for you, if it pleases you."
  "If you wish," said Mara, setting aside the book. "It's not another one about the bedroom, is it?"
  "Um...."
  Mara sighed. "Lucinda, is that all that-? Never mind. Ask. But let this be your last question. And I reserve the right not to answer."
  "You have every right," she said. "You're a Princess."
  "I don't think that's relevant, but ask."
  "Thank you," said the Countess. "I was merely curious if, by your insistence about being 'satisfied,' if you have... if he has managed to pleasure you to truly... orgasmic levels? There: thatismylastquestion."
  She let her gaze drift lazily about the room while waiting for the Princess's reply, and then became curious about the long delay. Mara was staring at her quizzically. This was not something that Adrienne had discussed with her before.
  "I have offended you," said Lucinda. "I am sorry."
  "No," she said. "I didn't understand the question. Pleasure me to... what?"
  "O-orgasmic levels," said Lucinda. "An apex of pleasure. A pinnacle of-- When you're utterly and absolutely overwhelmed with excitement, and you lose all control of yourself, and... I see by your look that perhaps this has not happened. It doesn't matter. I was merely curious."
  "I--" said Mara, and then paused to gather her thoughts. "I don't know how to answer. I don't know if I've reached that 'pinnacle,' or not. I wonder if he has?"
  "Very likely," said Lucinda. "Easy for men, not so for women."
  "That seems unfair."
  "Blame God for that, then," said the Countess. "Or Eve, if you wish. But let's get back to your book. I think the King's army was just about to invade Florin's borders, yes?"
  "Er... Yes, I think," said Mara, idly flipping open the book. "Lucinda... Could I infer that you yourself have experienced this, um... 'pinnacle?' "
  Lucinda stared at her a moment, then chuckled. "I have," she said. "But no thanks to my husband. I'm afraid that I have little to tell about his prowess." She chuckled again. "'Little.' Yes, there is 'little' to tell about him." She grinned at Mara, who smiled vaguely but clearly did not follow. Lucinda cleared her throat. "Uh... Anyway, it's my experience that a woman knows best what she needs, and how to achieve it. Men think they do, but we know better, yes? Do you want to know what you'll need to find your own 'pinnacle?' So you can, mm, teach it to him?"
  "...All right."
  Lucinda held up two fingers, and nothing else. Specifically, her index and middle finger. Mara waited for an explanation, and receiving none, shrugged.
  "I-I don't..."
  "These are your tools," said Lucinda. "If it pleases you, Your Highness, and you'll allow me, I can show you how to reach your own 'apex.'"
  "Wait," said Mara, shifting uncomfortably. "If you're suggesting that I wish for you to, um, touch me, in some strange way-"
  "Not me," she said. "You. I will only teach. What you do after that, to yourself, is up to you."
  "I-I don't know," said Mara, still shifting. "It seems... unseemly. But then, I don't know much about any of this. Neither does he! We-we're both so new at this, and are very interested in... in succeeding, but... I'll ask him. I'll ask him if he's heard of this. Then we can... can try different things together."
  All this time the Countess had been holding up her fingers, and after a pause, she let her hand drop to her lap.
  "Not that I'm not grateful for your offer," said Mara. "Because I am. But let me try-- things with my husband first."
  Lucinda smiled and patted her friend's thigh, then let it rest. Mara looked down at the hand, then at Lucinda.
  "What?" she said, then scoffed. "I've washed them. Silly girl. I mean... Your Highness."
  "If you curtsey to me right now, I'll kick you," said Mara. "Is it only me, or does all of the royal etiquette and courtly manners and such baffle you sometimes?"
  "I think it's just you," said Lucinda. "I happen to enjoy entitlement. By the way, I understand your desire to go first to your husband. You two... You seem to genuinely care for one another. Greatly. That is so rare that I don't believe I've ever seen that in any couple. But if-- and I stress 'IF' -- you think I can help, I'm here for you."
  "Thank you," said Mara, blushing. "That's very kind." She gripped the Countess' arm. "Do you like Astronomy? I got a book last week about it. I've been reading about the moon and its different phases. Do you have any interest for it?"
  Lucinda forced a smile and spread her arms. "I am at your disposal."
  Mara giggled and jump up from her seat to hurry to her expanding library. She pulled out her new book, then reconsidered and also pulled out a book devoted to the study of the earth. Her books, papers, and everything written she could find were quickly becoming her new "most prized possessions," well over the sword she had given Kelvin.
  There was a knock at the door, and she answered loudly for them to enter. It was Heather, bearing a covered platter. Mara smiled broadly at the sight of her assistant-friend.
  "I hope you don't mind more tea and snacks," she said, removing the old platter and its scraps before setting down the new one. "Our baker is trying something new with his cakes," she said, removing the cover. "He's made a topping of butter and cream and sugar. I think this one has some juice mixed in, as well." She pointed to a cake with a pink topping. Mara oohed at the sight of them all.
  "Oh, that must be delicious," she said. "Lucinda, please: you pick first."
  "I couldn't," said the Countess. "Highnesses first."
  "Heather, what do you recommend?" she said. "You've tried them, yes? And you'll be joining us?"
  "I'm afraid that I cannot, Your Highness," said Heather, using the title because of company. "Two of the girls are ill today, so there is extra work for us all."
  "Oh, no!" said Mara. "The one that's been going around? The stuffed-up noses? The coughing?"
  "I'm afraid so," said Heather. "Siobhan and Fiona are flat on their backs."
  "Be sure they're being cared for," said Mara. "If they're up to it, I'll visit them later."
  "Hand me that one," said Lucinda, pointing to a cake.
  "I think they'd like that," said Heather, picking up the plate in question. "But then, you must be careful not to  become ill yourself, yes?"
  "I'll be careful, dear," said Mara with a wink.
  Heather turned towards the Countess to pass her the dessert. Too quickly, though. The cake slid off of the plate and landed - new butter, cream and sugar side down - right into the Countess' lap. The Countess pushed it off and cried out in disgust and outrage.
  "My dress!" she cried. "You've ruined it!! You stupid cow!!"
  "Lucinda!"
  Time all but stopped in the room. Only the constant sounds of work and play coming from outside betrayed any life at all. The Countess had seen her friend annoyed, flustered, perplexed, frustrated, irritated... but never this. Never this burning rage, so deep in her eyes, so set in the lines of her face. Both hands were clenched tightly into fists, held perfectly still, but there was no mistaking their ability to strike immediately. She knew nothing of her friend's past on the battlefield, but did not need to. For the first time, she was afraid of this girl. This Princess.
  Lucinda dared to glance over at her hand, which she had unintentionally held up as if to strike the girl. A reflex, perhaps, for she had struck her own handmaidens before as the need had arisen. But this was not her handmaiden. Slowly, very very slowly, she lowered her hand until it rested in her lap. She dared not make any other movement.
  Mara opened her fists now. She put a gentle hand on Heather's arm and nodded once. Heather nodded back and left as quickly and silently as possible.
  "I. do not. like. the word," said Mara in a much lower register than Lucinda thought she could do. "Stupid."
  "I... I understand that," Lucinda said softly. "I spoke out of turn. Please forgive me. She is... your servant, not mine."
  "This is not about... servants," said Mara. "You will not use that tone - or those words - to anyone -" Lucinda flinched. "-In my presence again."
  "No, Your Highness," she said. "I will not. But..."
  Mara picked out the cake she wanted at last, and put the plate on her lap. She took a bite, hummed, and closed her eyes in contentment.
  "But what about my dress?" Lucinda finished.
  Mara opened her eyes as if for the sole purposing of rolling them. "I will purchase a new one," she said. Her voice was perfectly calm now.
  "Oh, I would hardly expect you to-- That is, you are not the one who-- I don't think I need a whole new dress."
  "I thought you said it was ruined," said Mara, taking another bite. "Whatever you think needs to be done for it, do it. I will pay it."
  "But the girl is the one who-"
  "Enough," said Mara. "Cease your pursuit of her. Now. I don't even like thinking of Heather as a servant. Even so, she is under my care. Under my protection, in fact. Whatever business you would have with her, you have with me first. Understand?"
  "...Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes, I do. And yet, I can't help wondering if..." her words became a quiet mumble that Mara could not make out.
  "Again, please. Louder."
  "I just..." said Lucinda, straightening up and making her voice stronger. "I was only wondering if you would ever come to my aid with the same ferocity as for your servants."
  Mara finished off her cake and set the empty plate on the platter. She took a cloth and dabbed at her mouth and wiped her hands.
  "Heather's action was clumsy, yes," she said. "But accidental and without forethought. You responded with anger and malice. And if I understood the purpose of your upraised hand, to inflict pain. I will... overlook that, this one time. That said, if the circumstances had been reversed - if you had unintentionally brought a disproportionate retribution upon yourself - believe me, my 'ferocity' on your behalf would be unmatched by anyone."
  Lucinda leaned back in her seat, taking in her words. "Thank you" was all she could think of in response.
  Likewise, the only response Mara had for her was to take another piece of cake and - slowly, carefully - offer it to her friend.